


A Good Stretch

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: MTMTE - Fandom, Transformers, Transformers MTMTE - Fandom
Genre: Fingering, M/M, NSFW, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:03:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picture on Tumblr made me do it:</p><p>http://25.media.tumblr.com/4ccd667757a78e824cbe97e65c30dc6b/tumblr_mqz4azG4Y71r3b4mpo1_500.jpg</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Stretch

Rodimus slides back a little, earning a hand on his waist. He presses his back—his spoiler—to Magnus’ chest and sighs. Magnus’ other hand is on his upper thigh, rubbing gently. Rodimus tries not to shiver but sitting in his Second’s lap he knows each miniscule movement is amplified.

"Rodimus," Magnus starts, tipping forward to connect his forehelm to the back of Rodimus’ helm. "Are you sure about this?"

"Pssht, yes!" Rodimus barks, putting on false bravado and attempting to glance over his pauldron at the Enforcer. "Don’t back out on me now. I’ve been trying to get you here for months, not gonna let go now."

Magnus lets out a short, embarrassed kind of chuckle. He nods, however, and slides his hand under Rodimus’ thigh. Rodimus’ vents kick up a notch and he shifts his weight. He feels Magnus’ digits—thick, large—curling under his thigh and towards his already opened panel. His bio-lights flicker and he powers down his optics.

Rodimus is hardly virginal—he chalks it up to his generation, Magnus chalks it up to lack of discipline—but Ultra Magnus is… huge. Rodimus has never taken a spike close to Magnus’ measurements, and preparation is obviously in order. Rodimus pushes—as he always does—and reluctantly Magnus agrees to prepare his small captain in one night, one go.

The first finger slides in easily, and it makes both mechs blush with hot energon behind their faceplates. Magnus is no slouch in the interfacing department but it’s certainly been a while and having Rodimus so ready for him without much foreplay: it’s a little overwhelming. Fluid drips down Magnus’ finger to pool in the palm of his hand. He begins thrusting it evenly, only curling into the pliable valve walls once he’s found a pace he knows he can keep up.

Rodimus squirms, powering down his optics. He relaxes his spinal strut and leans back into Magnus. One finger from his Second is just about the size of an average spike. The stimulation—and articulation, damn Magnus’ build—are enough to push Rodimus to overload with enough time. He bears down on the finger and rolls his hips slightly.

"Not gonna get anywhere without a little stretch, Magnus." Rodimus purrs, revving his engine challengingly. He feels the finger inside him halt, pressed flush against the front of his valve walls.

The second finger doesn’t press in so smoothly. Magnus retracts the first and adds the second. He pushes them up towards the valve opening and hesitates as he feels the pressure waiting his digits. He flutters his fingers against the opening, coating both fingers in lubricant. He feels his own spike pressing into his closed panel at the reaction the feather light touches produce from the Captain. Ultra Magnus makes a note to use that technique on a later date.

Rodimus lets out a long, low moan as Magnus forces both fingers into his valve. There’s the stretch. The burn is good and Rodimus feels full. He rocks his hips against the still fingers once he’s sure he’s properly adjusted and Magnus takes the hint. The Prime practically coos once the fingers start moving. His hips are canting into the push, his spinal strut is arching and he’s attempting to drape himself backwards over Magnus like a rug.

Magnus’ venting hitches and he powers down his optics. The Prime is writhing in his lap and it’s all Magnus can do to keep his composure. He begins scissoring his fingers, pushing and pressing and stretching valve walls around his digits. He feels the lubrication increase, coating his fingers gratuitously. The valve walls quiver around him and he lets out a shaky moan himself.

Rodimus is doing everything he can to stop grinding against Magnus’ fingers. They feel so magnificent and the Prime has never felt such a wonderful, full burn. Magnus’ fingers slide out and pause against his opening and Rodimus’ optics flash back on. He feels a third finger press against his entrance and his cooling cycle starts over on a hitch.

Magnus tilts his helm slightly to gauge his Captain’s reaction. He rubs his third finger against the lubrication gathering around the valve. Rodimus cants a leg up as if giving Magnus more room. The Enforcer frowns slightly as Rodimus lays hand over his. He twists his third finger slightly and pushes them in.


End file.
